Comfort
by Neko Oni
Summary: IchiHitsu. An overworked and exhausted Hitsugaya falls ill.  Luckily, Ichigo is there to care for and cuddle him. Contains a very sick Hitsugaya, and lots of fluff and sap.
1. haze

I got the idea for this when I was sick as a dog- I had a nasty cold on top of a severe sinus infection and was on two antibiotics that, together, left me very loopy so that when my mother was screaming about how we didn't have any hotdog buns, I told her there was some fresh cat litter in the fridge. U.U

Anyway, there's lots of fluff and sap cuz when I was sick, I just wanted someone to hold and comfort me like our Strawberry does to our Snowflake. Oh, and they might be a lil OOC cuz I'm still working on learning how to characterize Ichigo, and Hitsugaya is hella sick, so naturally he's not gonna be acting like himself. But I tried to keep 'em IC- I really did. I just dun know how well I succeeded.

PAIRING: IchiHitsu, past KusaHitsu

WARNINGS: yaoi (boi x boi), mentions of rape in later chapters

SUMMARY: An overworked and exhausted Hitsugaya falls ill. Luckily, Ichigo is there to care for him.

NOTE: In this ficcie, Ichi and Hitsu are in an established relationship.

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COMFORT

By Neko Oni

Hitsugaya groaned, massaging his throbbing temples with slender fingers. His head pounded with a vicious migraine; it felt like a giant ten ton Hollow was sitting on his head and crushing his skull. His brain was going to pop from the pressure. He ached all over, and he had difficulty breathing.

His lungs, throat, and nasal passages were tight with thick mucus and snot that blocked the flow of air, making it hard to breathe. His body kept switching from hot to cold; one minute, he was shivering with goose bumps all over him, the next he was sweating and wanted to rip his clothes off.

On top of all that, he was tired. He just wanted to go to sleep, to curl up and escape his aches, pains, and fever. Over the past three days, as he steadily got sicker and sicker, he only slept for a total of five hours. Every time he lay down, the gunk in his nose and throat would completely block the flow of air into his lungs, making breathing impossible and waking him up. At least when he sat up, one nostril and a small part of his throat remained unclogged, allowing a tiny flow of air into his body.

He tried sleeping propped up with pillows in bed, but his fluctuating body temperature also woke him up. He would become too hot, suffocating under his blankets, and throw them off only to become too cold so he cuddled under the blankets again and the horrible process repeated itself.

"I'm fine." He mumbled out loud to the empty office. He couldn't afford to be sick; he didn't have the time. There was too much paperwork to do. He coughed and winced, massaging his sore throat.

He forced open his eyes and picked up his writing brush. His head throbbed, feeling like it was about to explode. The searing pain made his vision blurry; even his eyes hurt. Twice, he missed his ink well, and on his third try, he ended up dipping his brush in his tea and didn't even realize it.

Staring down at the budget report form, Hitsugaya squinted. He could fill it out soon as the stupid kanji stopped swirling. He blinked and rubbed his eyes with one hand, but that only made it worse. Now, his whole desk was blurry; it looked like he had two of everything. He suddenly sneezed viciously, thick snot landing on the crisp paper. The force of the sneeze sent Hitsugaya rocking back in his chair, and he sat there limply with his limbs sprawled, what little energy he had drained. The sneeze made his fluid-clogged chest hurt, and Hitsugaya rubbed it, moaning.

"Nnn…maybe I can…go see Unohana-taichou….get some medicine…just a little bit, then back to work…so much work…" He moaned, his voice thick and raspy with mucus. He grabbed the edge of his desk tightly and pulled himself to his feet. He closed his eyes and waited for the world to stop spinning from the movement of standing up. Once he felt he was balanced, he slowly opened his eyes and took a tentative step forward.

The world titled alarmingly, and he fell into oblivion.

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A black butterfly fluttered through the twisting, sunlit corridors of Seireitei, guiding the way to tenth division. A reckless, gangly orange haired young man in flowing black shinigami robes with a huge sword on his back chased after the butterfly, whipping around corners and barreling over any unfortunate souls in his way.

Ichigo shunpoed after the hell butterfly for all he was worth. As many times as he had been to Soul Society, he still could not remember his way around. He got lost and confused easily because Seireitei was vast and complex, making it very easy to take a wrong turn.

He was anxious to see his frosty little boyfriend, who had, according to Matsumoto, literally worked himself sick. Ichigo had never seen a shinigami ill before, aside from Ukitake-taichou, and he was worried. Hitsugaya's second-in-command had sent a hell butterfly to the living world to inform Ichigo of his boyfriend's illness and to request Ichigo's help in caring for the small, sick taichou.

The substitute soul reaper wasted no time following the black butterfly back to the land of the dead, chasing after it in single-minded determination, but he was surprised when it let him not to Fourth Division, as he expected, but through the barracks of tenth division and the tenth division fukutaichou's private living quarters.

The hell butterfly left him outside the closed door and fluttered off, it's mission complete. Ichigo stared dumbstruck at the wood and rice paper door, scratching the back of his head and wondering what he was doing here. Was the news so bad Matsumoto had to tell him in private before letting him see Toshiro? If that was the case, why her bedroom instead of the office? Stomach knotting, Ichigo didn't bother knocking; he slid the door open, stepped inside, and stared in slack-jawed shock.

TBC…

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Hey, did you know that authors like getting reviews? Well, they do. Reviews make authors happy, and happy authors write more, which means more updates, and more updates makes reviewers happy. So spread the love, and review.


	2. ink

Hellooo mina-san!! Everyone, thank you very much for your reviews. I love getting reviews- that's how I know peops are interested in a story, and if peops are interested in a story, that encourages me to keep writing.

I'm doing my best to keep them in-character, but I'm still not very good at writing Ichigo's character (so any pointers are helpful!), so he may be a bit OOC. As for Hitsugaya, I've tried to keep his core characteristics there- his stubbornness and dedication to his division (including paperwork), but he's also very sick with a high fever so naturally he's gonna be very loopy and say/do things he normally wouldn't. So any OOCness of Hitsu, blame the fever.

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Matsumoto sat cross-legged before a long, low table. Stacks and stacks of paperwork sprawled all around her, weighing down the table and taking up much of the surrounding tatami. She scribbled furiously as she filled out forms and reports in rushed, sloppy kanji. She had brush strokes of ink smeared across her face, hands, and hair.

The answer to why was settled in her lap. Hitsugaya's head rested on Matsumoto's legendary breasts and his slender body was engulfed in a pale pink yukata that was several sizes too big. His eyes were closed, but Ichigo could hear the fluid rattling in his chest as he breathed. His naturally pale skin had a ghostly white tinge to it, and his baby cheeks were flushed cherry blossom pink with fever.

Feeling his enormous reiatsu as he approached, Matsumoto was already expectantly watching the doorway with a relieved grin when Ichigo entered. "Ah, Kurosaki-kun! Shiro-chan's right here, waiting for you- Taichou! I'm never gonna get this stupid paperwork finished!" She wailed, raising her writing arm up out Hitsugaya's reach.

As she spoke, Hitsugaya's eyes cracked open and between his thick black eyelashes, teal eyes glittered bright with fever. He moaned something unintelligible and reached for the writing brush in Matsumoto's hand. The sleeves of his yukata were too long, leaving his hand well buried, but he still managed to grab the end of the brush, which she had just dipped in her ink well. As she brought the brush up out of his reach, it slipped from his weak, cloth covered grip, and another swipe of ink smeared across her face.

Ichigo just stared at the sight before him. Part of him wanted to laugh at Matsumoto's face, but a bigger part of him was worried about Hitsugaya. The young taichou wasn't lucid at all. The biggest thing Ichigo felt was shock. Matsumoto, willingly doing paperwork and even scolding her captain for not letting her. That was a total role reversal and something Ichigo thought he would never see even in his wildest dreams. Then there was the pink yukata Hitsugaya was wearing. Lastly, there was his little lover, who looked so weak and sick Ichigo just wanted to scoop him up into his arms and hold him until he was better.

Feeling his stare, Matsumoto turned her attention back to him, motioning him forward with one hand as she set the brush down on the table. Ichigo picked his way through the field of paper piles and sat down across from her.

"I found him collapsed on the floor and burning up with fever this morning in the office. He never went home last night." She shook her head. "I told him he was going to make himself sick working so much." She sighed heavily, looking down at her delirious taichou, "I told you and told you paperwork was bad for your health." Hitsugaya's lashes fluttered and his head lolled to the other side, resting on one huge breast and Matsumoto raised her gaze back at Ichigo.

"I rushed him to Unohana and she gave him a pain killer, antibiotics, a decongestant, and something for his fever. Soon as he regained consciousness, he insisted on going back to work. He refused to stay in the infirmary." Her expression grew tighter. "No matter what we did, we couldn't keep him in bed. After the tenth time of carrying him back to his room, I gave up and sent for you."

Her sour face turned into a painful, long-suffering grimace. "You know how stubborn he is. At least if he's in your world, he can't get to his precious paperwork. Then maybe he'll actually rest and recover."

While Matsumoto explained the situation to Ichigo, Hitsugaya squirmed in her lap, still intent on getting the brush. He lurched forward, both hands hidden in the deep folds of the yukata. Through the cloth, his fingers were splayed, reaching for the brush on the table.

"Hey, Rangiku-san-" Ichigo began, but Matsumoto already saw it. She felt Hitsugaya squirming in her arms and looked down to check on him. Hitsugaya's flowing yukata sleeves were about to grad through the still-drying ink of her just-finished report. With a loud squawk, she grabbed both his slim wrists and the small taichou struggled to free himself.

"Matatoto…" Hitsugaya slurred, voice thick and haze with mucus, "quit goofing…I need to…need to finish…paperwork…" Matsumoto's ink-smeared face twisted, her nerves becoming more and more frazzled. She really, really needed some sake.

Sensing the fukutaichou was near her wits end, Ichigo stood up and reached across the table, taking Hitsugaya from her. As he settled the sick taichou in his arms, he was alarmed by how hot the small body was. "He's burning up!"

Matsumoto nodded tiredly, looking relieved to have the feverish captain out of her lap. "Unohana already gave him as much medicine as she safely could, but he's really sick."

Ichigo stared at her defeated, inky face and hid his snicker in Hitsugaya's fluffy, soft hair.

"What's so funny?" Matsumoto growled like a cat fluffing up its fur.

"Nothing." Ichigo shook his head. "Just, never figured anything could get you to do paperwork."

Her upper lip curled in distaste. "If I don't do it, then Taichou will only worry and never get better. He's already thrown up on himself and me twice." She gestured at her pink yukata she had put on Hitsugaya. "He'll be pissed about it when he's better, but my yukatas were the closest at hand, and he really does look cute in pink."

Ichigo looked down at the little ice prince in his arms. "Nah, baby blue is more his color." Hitsugaya's naturally pale face was white as a ghost, making his long, thick eyelashes seem an even darker shade of black than usual. His baby cheeks were rosy red with fever and his soft pink lips dry and cracked. He breathed heavily, trying to draw air into his clogged lungs: Ichigo heard the fluid rattling deep in his slender chest. Hitsugaya felt light and frail in the substitute shinigami's arms, like a broken doll. Ichigo pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, the skin soft and hot under his lips.

At the contact, Hitsugaya stirred, moaning softly. He drifted in and out of awareness, lost in the haze of a burning fever. Ichigo rained butterfly kisses over his sweet, flushed face to soothe him and rubbed his stomach. "Sh. Sh. It's alright, Shiro-chan."

Hitsugaya sighed softly, mucus rattling in his nasal passages. Ichigo shifted him higher on his chest and continued rubbing his stomach. "Poor yuki hime. You can't even breathe." Ichigo kissed the snowy mop of hair and cuddled him tightly.

Under his loving, soothing administrations, Hitsugaya settled limply in Ichigo's arms, drifting back to unconsciousness. Ichigo still stayed focused on him for several more moments, making sure he was alright before turning his attention back to Matsumoto. The busty vice captain was about to start talking again when Hitsugaya jerked violently in Ichigo's lap, causing both to look down in alarm.

Tbc…

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Yuki hime means snow princess, and yes, I stole that nick name from Heuk Ya's fic, "Empathy". Which, if you're an IchiHitsu fan and haven't read it, you must be living under a rock or in a cave. (I swear, Heuk Ya's starting a revolution with that nick name- I've seen a couple other authors use that nick for Shiro, too!)

Please review. Comments, etc, are encouraged and welcomed. Flames, however, are not and will be returned with interest.


	3. seriously sick

No, I haven't died. Yes, this is an actual update. Which will be occurring more regularly. I'm gonna shoot for once a week.

I would like to thank all of you readers, and most especially you lovely, lovely reviewers. It's because of you guys I refuse to give up on this story, and have made it a little longer than I originally intended.

Domo arigato, minna-san!

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Hitsugaya squirmed in Ichigo's lap. He coughed harshly, making awful gagging and retching noises that made Ichigo's eyes go wide as saucers. It sounded as painful as it looked. Thick phlegm fluctuated deep in his chest and throat, gagging him as he coughed, slim body shuddering in an effort to dispel the fluid. Ichigo quickly clamped a large hand over Hitsugaya's parted, panting lips as he hacked loudly. With a final shudder and gag, warm, sticky green snot landed in Ichigo's palm.

Ichigo grimaced at the thick, sticky sensation as Hitsugaya fell limp with a little whimper. His throat hurt, raw and inflamed from the mucus clinging to it. He panted heavily, too tired and weak to open his eyes, drawing air into his just-cleared throat. The fluid deep in his chest rattled and already, he could feel snot draining from his nasal passages into his throat.

Ichigo cradled Hitsugaya close with one arm, kissing his face. "Shiro-chan." He cooed soothingly while Matsumoto looked at him in sympathy, understanding, and incredible relief that it wasn't her hand covered in snot. She handed Ichigo a tissue from a box at her side and, with one hand, he wiped Hitsugaya's snot off, face crinkled in distaste.

Matsumoto's ink-smeared features curled into an I-know-something-you-don't-know grin. "Just wait until he has to throw up." She winked at Ichigo, but his attention was focused on his sick lover.

"Yuki hime." Ichigo cooed again, wrapping both arms tightly around the trembling little body in his lap when Hitsugaya nuzzled against his chest, burrowing his face in the folds of Ichigo's black top. When Hitsugaya had been gagging, his feverish, weak body struggling to expel the phlegm, he had suddenly become unbearably hot and his squirming increased as he tried to crawl out of his clothes. Now that he was calm again, chills followed swiftly on the heels of the fever and he snuggled into the warmth radiating from Ichigo's big body.

He still struggled to breathe; all of his air passages were clogged tightly with thick mucus. He sucked air through his parted lips, fluid rattling deep in his lungs. He was lost in a hazy fog of fever, only dimly aware of what was going on around him. He still slipped in and out of consciousness, trapped in the fever's vice-like grip.

It did not seem like there had been any improvement since he first collapsed on the office floor, but all of the medication Unohana had pumped into his little body reduced his fever enough to keep him from slipping into shock and he could not feel the ache in his muscles. He was still incredibly weak, tired, and delirious, though.

The only solid things he knew were the strong arms cradling him and the solid press of a firm chest and soft cloth. And warmth. Wonderful, comforting warmth radiating from the firm, cloth-covered wall he was held against. It chased the cold chills away, a safe haven for him to curl up in. Normally, Hitsugaya never backed down from anything- he took whatever life dished out, dealt with it, then moved on. He knew he had something important to do- a nagging feeling deep in his gut would not leave him alone- but he was cold, tired, and it took all his focus just to breathe. The warm wall was so cozy and inviting; all he had to do was curl up and breathe. Just breathe. Yes, breathing must be the important thing he had to do…

With a soft, fluid rattling sigh, Hitsugaya pressed his slim body into Ichigo, his thick, inky lashes fluttering as if he was struggling for consciousness, then he went limp in Ichigo's arms. Ichigo and Matsumoto watched him concernedly. His sweet face was fully buried in the folds of Ichigo's black shinigami top and the strawberry was afraid the tiny taichou would suffocate. Gently, with his fingertips, he turned Hitsugaya's chin so the petite taichou's clogged airways were not smothered in cloth.

At the faint whimper of protest, Ichigo rained more butterfly kisses on Hitsugaya's cherry-flushed face. His panting was loud in Ichigo's ear and his soft, feverish skin burned Ichigo's lips. He pulled back and looked at Matsumoto in alarm, but the fukutaichou busily loaded her brush with ink. "He's getting hotter!"

Matsumoto sighed heavily, blue eyes laden with worry. "His fever's been fluctuating all morning, even with all the medicine Unohana-taichou's given him."

"Can't she give him any more?" His voice was frantic with distress.

Matsumoto shook her head. "She's given him all she safely could. It took all her skills just to get him out of the danger zone."

Ichigo's brown eyes widened at hearing the state his little yuki-hime was in was an actual improvement. He clutched Hitsugaya to him tighter. "He's awful close to slipping back in."

Matsumoto nodded miserably. "He really should be in the hospital, but like I said, he refused to stay put and kept falling out of bed. Tying him down would only distress him more."

Ichigo's worried frown deepened and he gazed down at his little lover. Hitsugaya suddenly felt incredibly fragile in his arms and the strawberry felt his heart twist painfully in his chest. "I'll lay with him and hold him in bed if I have to." He vowed fervently, eyes hard with determination upon realizing just how serious Hitsugaya's sickness was.

Matsumoto gave a hopeful half-smile at the vehemence in Ichigo's voice. She was glad to know her taichou had such a devoted, protective boyfriend. With the ryoka's strong, stubborn determination, Hitsugaya would surely get better, not worse. "That's why I sent for you."

"I'm not a doctor." Ichigo wanted to take Hitsugaya to Fourth Division and stay with him there, where, if anything went wrong, there were healers who could rush to Hitsugaya's aide immediately.

"But your father is." It would give Matsumoto great peace of mind to know her taichou was safe in the hospital bed, but even burning up with a dangerous fever, Hitsugaya was still excessively stubborn and hell-bent on having his own way, so Matsumoto did the next best thing.

Ichigo spluttered. "My father's a raving lunatic!"

"With a medical degree. And a clinic at your house. If, kami-sama forbid, taichou gets worse, your father will know what to do and have the medicine there to do it." She laid her writing brush aside and looked Ichigo squarely in the eye, her ink-stained face uncharacteristically serious. "Ichigo, take good care of my taichou-chan."

Ichigo felt a heavy weight settle on his shoulders. Not only was Hitsugaya fully depending on him, but Matsumoto was, too. He heard the unspoken message in her solemn voice: 'I trust you to do what I can not'.

Matsumoto and Hitsugaya were one of the best and closest taichou and fukutaichou teams. They trusted one another completely and worked well together despite their polar-opposite personalities, work ethics, and frequent scuffles over paperwork. This was evidenced by Matsumoto willingly, albeit reluctantly, doing something she loathed; paperwork. She showed her care and concern for her taichou by doing the paperwork so he couldn't worry. She took over command of Tenth Division so Hitsugaya could focus on recovering. She would have preferred to be the one taking care of him, but someone had to run the division, so she trusted Ichigo with the well-being of her sick, dainty captain.

Hitsugaya's health was in Ichigo's hands, and the strawberry willingly took on the responsibility. He was Hitsugaya's boyfriend, after all, and as such, he should be the one to take care of him. Not Matsumoto.

A part of Ichigo resented being told something he already knew. Matsumoto should know he would take good care of his baby dragon. Unconsciously, he cradled the limp, feverish body closer to his chest as his chocolate eyes narrowed slightly. His voice had a slight edge to it. "I know, Rangiku."

Hitsugaya coughed lightly at the muscles tightening around him, and Matsumoto was instantly forgotten as Ichigo rubbed the thin chest, helping Hitsugaya settle back down in a fevered slumber, then turned his attention back to the vice captain.

Fierce brown eyes met serious blue.

Tbc….

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Why, oh why, does the plot bunny insist on dramatic cliff hangers? . Hell if I know. I try not to make them soo….intense? Dramatic? But as you can tell, that's been backfiring for me. Big time. T.T

But it makes ya wanna keep reading, ne?

And I'm gonna be updating this regularly, I promise. Things have just been uberly, uberly crazy in my life right now, but things are starting to settle down. This means I can update regularly.

I would really appreciate it if you reviewed.


	4. the madness of Matsumoto

Well, I've finally gotten around to updating. More accurately, life has given me a chance to update. A lot of crap has been going on with my family, my job, and school, and I just literally have not been able to write, but now things have settled down a bit and I'm back!

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Fierce brown eyes met serious blue, then in a heartbeat, Matsumoto was all smiles again. "Ah, I know, Ichigo."

Then it occurred to Ichigo that Matsumoto did not doubt his care or love for her taichou, but that she was a bit jealous of him because he got to take care of Hitsugaya.

Ichigo was about to reply when Hitsugaya's labored breath hitched as his breathing was completely cut off and a greenish liquid tricked out of both nostrils and the small body stirred slightly. Not wanting his little lover to have another fit, Ichigo quickly leaned over the table and papers, plucked a tissue from the box, then with the tissue on one finger, tried to clear out Hitsugaya's nostrils.

"Nnnn." The tiny taichou's face crinkled up, thick lashes mercifully staying closed. Soft pink lips parted, trying uselessly to suck air down a tight, phlegm-constricted throat into mucus-filled lungs.

Ichigo leaned Hitsugaya forward and gave him a sharp, quick pat on the back, just over his lungs. Hitsugaya let out a harsh, painful wheeze and chunks of yellow snot flew out of his nose and into the awaiting tissue. Nostrils temporarily clear, he inhaled deeply and went limp again, the strawberry's large hand cracling his head so he didn't injure his neck.

Ichigo tossed the used tissue aside and held Hitsugaya upright, still cradled to his chest, but with his head supported by his broad shoulder, face snuggled into the crook of his neck, so Hitsugaya could breathe easier. "He's a real mess."

"At least the decongestant is kicking in and breaking up all that crap clogging him up. It wouldn't come out before and Unohana had to suction him. Twice."



"THIS is an improvement?" Ichigo asked with an arched orange brow.

Matsumoto gazed down at her taichou sadly, absent-mindedly setting her hands down on the table and the ink on her still-drying report. "AAAIIEEEE!!" Blue eyes shot wide open and Matsumoto let out a high-pitched squeal.

Hitsugaya flinched, trying to curl even more into Ichigo, who rubbed his slender back and cringed, his own ears ringing. "Oi, Rangiku-"

"Why me?" She wailed and buried her ink-streaked face into her ink-soaked hands. She froze, realizing her mistake too late. "Nooo." She moaned despondently, her face now entirely coated in thick, black ink. "I HATE PAPERWORK!" She suddenly shrieked.

Ichigo's lips twitched and he hid his snigger in the thick, fluffy softness of Hitsugaya's hair, his laughter shaking Hitsugaya's slim frame, but the tiny taichou was too far out of it to notice.

Matsumoto gazed at Hitsugaya snuggled safely in Ichigo's arms. "Trade you." She whined.

Ichigo grinned broadly and made a great show of cuddling Hitsugaya. "Nope." Hitsugaya stirred slightly, his breathing starting to become raspy again,k and one small, dainty hand tried to fist in Ichigo's shirt but only got a handful of bunched up pink silk instead. The sight was just too adorable; Ichigo felt his insides melt into a gooey puddle at how cute the young prodigy was. "My little yuki-hime." He cooed.

Matsumoto wiped the ink off her hands and face, but her skin was still stained black. She wiped a little too vigorously on one cheek in her frustration; her elbow jostled a stack of finished paperwork. The tower trembled then collapsed, knocking over piles of unfinished papers. Matsumoto just whimpered in self-pity and resignation to her doom as the piles toppled down onto her, burying her under piles and piles of papers, stray sheets fluttering all over the place like gigantic snowflakes. Her ink well was knocked over, ink spilling onto the polished wood and soaking into the surrounding forms and reports.



A couple sheets landed on Ichigo's head and lap. He stared at the toppled piles in shock. Matsumoto really was a disaster with paperwork. No wonder she hated it so much. "Rangiku-san, are you alright?" He would have helped her, but his hands were full of a sick taichou, and just watching was rather amusing. He bit his lower lip as laughter slowly overcame the shock.

He could not even see her under all the papers. The massive ink splattered pike trembled. "I FUCKING HATE, HATE, HATE PAPERWORK!!" Matsumoto snarled viciously and popped up from the paper piles and ferociously began ripping them apart. Her eyes were wild and seemed to glow electric blue in her ink-stained face, her hair was a bushy, snarled mess, and she laughed with manic, vengeful glee as she tore up form after form. Her legendary breasts quivered as bits of shredded paper fluttered around her.

The sight was terrifying and hilarious at the same time, and Ichigo felt a massive sweat drop forming on the back of his neck as he feared for his life, fully convinced Matsumoto had finally snapped and gone off the deep end. She was a stark-mad, raving lunatic. Holding Hitsugaya securely, Ichigo warily scotched back.

"Okay…" He said as she laughed hysterically, continuing to shred papers. Ichigo's back was to the door, eyes never leaving Matsumoto in her paper-ripping frenzy, when she snatched a handful of reports, bit them, and started ripping them with her teeth.

Ichigo stood and slid the door open with his foot, then shunpoed like a Grimmjow out of Hueco Muendo on a killing spree. He only got in the vast, twisting corridors fifteen times and asked directions ten. Eventually, he made it to the gates of the Seki Kamon and back to the living world.

The entire time Hitsugaya slept in Ichigo's arms, rousing only when mucus slipped down his throat and caused him to reflexively swallow then cough. Ichigo gently pat his back, like he was burping a baby, to encourage Hitsugaya to cough the snot and mucus up, but it stayed stubbornly in his stomach, leaving Ichgio to cringe and wonder for how long.

TBC…



Sorry this chappie is a lil short because this was the best place to leave off, but maybe next chappie will be a lil longer.

As always, please review!


	5. perverts and paperwork

In the land of the living, Ichigo hit the ground running, holding Hitsugaya's hot little body securely to his chest

Oi, I know, it's been a while, but at least it hasn't been a month!

Hitsugaya: or a couple of years

.True. I've been trying, though, and I've got 3 stories I'm working on at once. Well, 6 if you count the unpublished ones, and one of those turned into a huge monster of a fic. &groans&

last chapter the whole point was a humor break. I should of put a note in about that…but anyway, there's more Ichigo cuddling sick Hitsugaya, cuz I can't get enough of that, so this chappie is a fluff-break and in either the next chapter or the chapter after that, we'll learn a horrible, not-so-little secret Hitsugaya's been hiding from Ichigo. A secret that could tear their relationship apart….and it's got nothing to do with Hinamori…

Oh, and I'm on Gaia! My username there is TentenHyuga02, and dun be afraid to pop by and say hi!

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WARNINGS: perverted Matsumoto, Yoruichi, and Urahara and talk about sex

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In the land of the living, Ichigo hit the ground running, holding Hitsugaya's hot little body securely to his chest. The high temperature of the ice-wielder's body still alarmed him. The small taichou's regular body temperature was cooler than a regular person's due to his association with the ice-dragon Hyourinmaru, lord of the frozen skies. Hitsugaya's alabaster skin was usually cool to the touch, as if he had been lying on ice.

So to feel his chilly body burning up with a dangerously high fever, as if his reiatsu power suddenly switched from colder-than-dry ice to hotter-than-hell shook Ichigo down to his bones and urged him to put more speed into his shunpo until he was nearly as fast as Yoruichi herself.

Hitsugaya's raspy breath hitched in his thin chest and he gasped heavily, greedily sucking in air between cracked lips. "Shh. Shh. We're almost there, yukihime." Ichigo rubbed his back and pressed a kiss to his soft forehead.

Ichigo skidded to a halt outside his home, eyeing his front door as if he expected his father to leap out and attack him at any moment. By now, he could easily defend himself from his insane father's 'surprise' attacks, but he would not risk a very ill Hitsugaya getting injured. Ichigo's arms reflexively tightened protectively around the frail body at the thought, and the small shinigami whimpered.

Ichigo's hold loosened automatically and he rocked Hitsugaya soothingly. "I'm sorry, Shiro-chan." He kissed one cherry-flushed cheek in apology. The little body in his arms felt so light and fragile that Ichigo sometimes forgot how powerful Hitsugaya really was. The taichou's strength lay in his incredible reiatsu, fiery spirit and strong will. Ichigo smiled faintly. His baby dragon was a little spit-fire, indeed.

Right now, though, he was very ill and completely helpless, fully dependent upon his boyfriend for protection, and Ichigo wouldn't risk him. Ichigo looked up at his bedroom window, which was conveniently cracked open. He smiled. Perfect.

With a mighty leap, he entered his bedroom. It was dim and his bedroom door was shut firmly and locked. Ichigo's body lay next to Hitsugaya's gigai, with a note on the pillow and Kon's soul pill on his dresser. Ichigo tilted his head to the side, to read the slightly tilted note.

_Kurosaki-kun, here is the gigai Matsumoto-san requested I drop off. It's already fully medicates, so you don't have to worry about Hitsugaya-chan's next dosage. By the way, tell Matsumoto-san thank you for the videos of you and your pretty baby dragon together. I must admit I'm rather jealous. Oh, and Yoruichi-san wants me to ask if you two would be interested in joining us for a four-some sometime. _

_Urahara_

Ichigo's face flushed red and he grit his teeth. Matsumoto had been secretly taping them when they made love, and she'd given a copy to the geta-boshi! Now he knew why Hitsugaya wanted to kill her ninety-nine point nine percent of the time. Yoruichi was as bad as usual, and Urahara his typically perverted self. They were all a bunch of rotten, voyeuristic lechers and Ichigo vowed on the virginity he'd taken from Hitsugaya to pay them back.

Hitsugaya stirred, moaning softly, and Ichigo shushed him, anger immediately forgotten. Soon as his precious ice prince was better, he'd kill the troublesome threesome. The only problem he had was deciding who got the number one position on his shit list.

"Let's get you into that gigai." He murmured. "It has medicine in it already; maybe you'll feel better." Ichigo held Hitsugaya close to him, burying his face in his fluffy, thick hair that was as soft as goose down and inhaled deeply. Hitsugaya's fresh scent of frost and snow lilies teased his senses, along with a lingering trace of sake and sweet-pea blossoms; Matsumoto's scent, from her yukata.

Ichigo scowled. He did not like Matsumoto's scent on HIS baby dragon. Hitsugaya should smell like Ichigo, not Matsumoto. Face darkening possessively, the orange-haired ryoka stripped the offending pink silk off the petite body then gently laid Hitsugaya down in his gigai before hopping into his own body.

Hitsugaya sighed softly, thick, long ashes fluttering partially open. His brilliant aqua eyes were bright and glassy, glazed over with fever. "Nnn. Ichi.." He moaned. He did not know where he was or what was going on. All he knew was the wonderful warmth cocooning him and making him feel safe was gone, and he wanted it back. He just wanted to curl up into a little ball and sleep, surrounded by warmth. He wanted his Ichigo. "Ichi…" he croaked, one dainty hand flopping as he tried to reach for him.

"Shh. Shh. I'm here, Shiro-chan. It's okay, baby." The familiar, strong arms he missed scooped him up and he was once more cradled to his boyfriend's strong, muscular chest. Calloused fingers gingerly brushed over his porcelain cheeks and Hitsugaya sighed softly in contentment.

He curled up in Ichigo's lap and nuzzled his face into Ichigo's chest. " 'm tired, Ichi." He yawned, the high doses of medicine and their effects combining to make him drowsy.

"Then sleep, yukihime. I promise, I won't let you go." Ichigo whispered soothingly.

Hitsugaya wanted to comply. He was already nodding off. He was tired and weak; eh could barely move. All he wanted to do was sleep, safely cradled in Ichigo's protective embrace, but he couldn't sleep. Not yet. There was something important he had to do. But what was it? Breathing? No, it was….was…He didn't know what it was, but he knew he could not sleep until he did it.

"Nnn…" His head lolled weakly to the side, away from Ichigo's chest, and his dainty hand flopped uselessly as he tried to muster the strength to push Ichigo away.

Alarmed, Ichigo bounced him gently. "Shiro-chan, what's wrong?"

"I…I can't…Ichi…"Hitsugaya rasped, pink kitten tongue darting out to lick his dry lips as he inhaled deeply. A huge hunk of loose mucus fell down his throat, along with air, and he started coughing violently, aqua eyes bulging. Ichigo rubbed his chest, soothing his coughing fit, and Hitsugaya whimpered. Coughing made his inflamed chest and throat hurt.

Thoroughly exhausted, Hitsugaya fell limp in defeat. How could he do…whatever it was he had to do…when he could barely move? He wanted to sleep so badly, but he could not let himself go. Slowly, slowly, he felt himself sinking into a medicated and fevered unconsciousness. Ichigo kept rubbing his chest soothingly and whispering soft, cajoling words urging him to sleep.

Against his will, his body complied with the medicine and Ichigo's deep, tender voice, except for a dull tightness in his stomach. The further Hitsugaya fell asleep, the more the tightness turned into a painful rumbling. Finally, just as he was fully into slumber, his mucus-filled stomach rebelled. Large, aqua eyes shot wide open and Hitsugaya heaved spasmodically, dainty body shuddering in Ichigo's lap

tbc…

&

I'm sure you know what's going to happen next chapter….&evil little smirk& Ah, poor, poor Ichigo-kun! I wonder if Hitsugaya will be able to make it to the toilet in time?

And I'm going to try and be better with the updates, though this semester I've got school, double the duty at work- I'm even gonna have to go in on a couple of weekends &sobs&- and I'm starting kung fu (don't ask, just don't. Consider it another weird whim of mine)

Reviews are always appreciated!


	6. bath

When he realized what was really going on- Hitsugaya was about to throw up all over him- he held his gagging baby dragon tightly and shunpoed to the bathroom, slamming down onto his knees in front of the toilet just as Hitsugaya violently emptied his sto

When he realized what was really going on- Hitsugaya was about to throw up all over him- he held his gagging baby dragon tightly and shunpoed to the bathroom, slamming down onto his knees in front of the toilet just as Hitsugaya violently emptied his stomach.

Ichigo winced as his knees throbbed from slamming into the cold, hard tiles of the floor. They would be bruised in the morning. Hitsugaya shook in his arms as he threw up repeatedly, gripping the edge of the toilet seat weakly. His throat and chest burned, tears of pain trickling from under his clenched lashes. Ichigo's arms were the only things keeping him from falling over. The medicine kept his head and muscles from hurting, but he was dizzy and disoriented.

After a final heave and shudder, he went limp with a tiny whimper and fell forward. His face headed for the toilet and his puke, but Ichigo pulled him back against his chest just in time.

"Poor little yukihime. I wish I could make you feel better." Ichigo tenderly stroked one soft, cherry-flushed cheek before wetting a washcloth and wiping Hitsugaya's face then helping him wash his mouth out. Hitsugaya's body flopped bonelessly in Ichigo's shifting hold, what little energy he had drained.

Ichigo kept stroking the fever-flushed face, but Hitsugaya was unresponsive. "You must really feel like shit, Shiro. How about a nice, hot bath?" Fresh, steaming water always made Ichigo feel better when he was sick. His mother used to put him in a hot bath when he was sick as a child. Now, grown up, a hot bath when he was ill was a comforting reminder of her love. Ichigo wondered if Hitsugaya had had anyone to comfort him when he was a sick baby. Whether he did or not, now he had Ichigo. And Ichigo would always take care of him, whether Hitsugaya needed it or not.

Ichigo filled the tub up with hot, steaming water then stripped himself and Hitsugaya of their clothes. The tiny taichou just wore powder blue ankle socks, boxers, and a t-shirt of Ichigo's that looked more like a nightgown on his petite body. In contrast, the shirt was tight and barely fit Ichigo anymore. It used to be his favorite shirt in middle-school.

Ichigo took off a faded black t-shirt and loose pajama pants. Holding Hitsugaya carefully, he settled into the hot water, leaning against the back of the tub with the sick taichou curled sideways in his lap, head resting on one broad shoulder.

Hitsugaya greedily sucked moist, steamy air through his lips, the hot vapors of the bath soothing his sore, phlegm-clogged throat and lungs. He whimpered softly, tears shimmering under his closed lashes, when he inhaled too harshly, greedy for air. "Ichi…" His voice was raspy, mucus tattling his throat.

"It's alright. I'm here, yukihime." Ichigo rained soft kisses on Hitsugaya's face and cuddled him close to reassure him.

" 'm tired, Ichi. So tired."

"Then sleep, baby."

Hitsugaya's sweet face scrunched up and he whimpered again. "Can't."

Ichigo's orange brow furrowed. "Sure you can. I'm here; I'll protect you."

"Can't." Hitsugaya insisted, shaking his head back and forth in protest, tears growing brighter under his dark lashes.

"Shh. Shh." Ichigo rocked him gently, afraid of distressing him. "Why not, Shiro-chan?"

"Cuz…gotta…paperwork…finish…need…not done…Matsumoto…" His croaky words slurred together and Ichigo had a hard time understanding him.

Once he understood, the strawberry tilted his head back and let out a loud bark of astonished laughter. Hitsugaya was so sick he should be in the hospital, and here he was, fussing over paperwork. Ichigo felt incredibly relieved; he had been thinking Hitsugaya was in pain, despite all the medication flowing through his little veins, when the taichou really was just stressing over his paperwork.

The substitute soul-reaper's laughter rumbled like thunder in his chest, the vibrations shaking Hitsugaya's dainty frame. Ichigo patted his tight little bottom, still chuckling, and kissed the tip of his pert little nose, which automatically scrunched up. "Oh, yukihime, what am I going to do with you?"

He smiled down at the sick, tiny taichou in his lap when he noticed the tears still lingering under the closed lashes. Hitsugaya squirmed in his arms, trying to get to his paperwork. "Ichi…" The tears slipped down his baby soft cheeks. "Can't."

"Sleep, baby dragon. Matsumoto's taking care of the paperwork." Ichigo rocked him. He wanted Hitsugaya to get some rest so he could get better. Stressing out over work would only make him worse.

His words only made Hitsugaya squirm more, water sloshing around and making their skin slippery. Twice, the taichou almost slipped free and would have drowned in the tub. Tears of frustration fell freely down his face. He wanted to sleep; he felt completely drained. But he could not sleep just yet; he had to finish his work. Even as delirious as he was, he knew Matsumoto would NOT do the paperwork for him. He didn't have the energy to open his eyes, let alone sit up and hold a pen and think.

"Noo…she…no…lazy…so lazy, Ichi…Matatoto so lazy…" Hitsugaya slurred, salty tears plopping into the bath water and mucus rattling deep in his chest.

Ichigo brushed the tears away with his fingertips, trying to calm Hitsugaya down. "Sh. Shush, Shiro-chan. Shh. Byakuya's making Matsumoto do it. He's watching her." The blatant lie fell easily from Ichigo's lips. He did not like to lie, but it was the only way to soothe Hitsugaya's worries and let him sleep peacefully.

Hitsugaya's adorable face scrunched up in confusion. What would the taichou of sixth division have to do with the fukutaichou of tenth? "Hmm?"

Ichigo frowned at the tenseness in Hitsugaya's hot little body and adjusted his grip on the slippery, wet skin as he almost lost hold of his weakly struggling lover. Even delirious with a high fever and medication, Hitsugaya didn't believe him. He had never been a very good liar.

"Yeah. He is. Cuz…cuz " Ichigo kept rocking Hitsugaya, bath w sloshing around them and wiping away his frustrated tears as he groped uselessly for another lie to make the first one believeable. "Rukia! Yeah, she's one of my best friends, and I asked her to ask Byakuya because you're my boyfriend and she is Byakuya's little sister, so she asked him for me."

Hitsugaya started to drift in and out of awareness, struggling to focus on what Ichigo was saying. "Hmm…'m kay…" He agreed, eventhough he did not know what he was agreeing to. Maybe he was agreeing to sleep? Sleep sounded good…whatever the thing was, Ichigo would take care of it…

Ichigo exhaled loudly in relief as Hitsugaya cuddled into his wet chest. Gently, he touched one soft cheek. "Okay, Shiro-chan? You'll rest now?"

Long lashes, dark against ivory skin, fluttered slightly but didn't open. "Mmmm.." Hitsugaya yawned softly, slipping finally into a deep slumber his ill body desperately needed. "Ichi…"

"Yes, Shiro-chan?" Hitsugaya was limp in sleep, unable to finish his thought. "I'm here, baby." Ichigo whispered with a gentle kiss to Hitsugaya's pink, petal-soft lips.

He held the sick taichou close and carefully bathed him, washing away the sweat and grime of the past several days. He used Karin and Yuzu's No More Tears shampoo, careful not to let it get into Hitsugaya's eyes, even though if it did, it wouldn't burn anyway. The twins' moisturizing body wash left Hitsugaya smelling like baby powder, as did the baby lotion Ichigo rubbed all over Hitsugaya's body after their bath. Ichigo spread vaporizing cream on Hitsugaya's thin chest to help keep his airways open before redressing him.

tbc….

&

Pfft…and you all thought I was gonna make Hitsu throw up on Ichi. I siked ya out!

Well, that's it for chapter 6, folks, and please review and let me know what you think!


	7. omake fever

Sorry I haven't updated this in a while, but I got hit with writer's block then this funny lil thing called Life decided to become a major inconvenience. But I'm not giving up on this fic! I know what I want to happen next, just having trouble getting it down.

So, to take a lil break, this chappie here is an omake. It's just for grins and giggles and is really not part of the story at all. Oh, Hitsu's still sick in this one- I've at least kept that theme going. And Ichi's taking care of him, but our feisty ickle dragon is NOT going to give him an easy time of it.

A couple of peops have said a cold bath would've been better- I was thinking hot to relax his muscles. I was going off of personal experience- when I have a cold, or a fever, etc, I like hot baths, so that's what I went with. I could be wrong- I'm no medical expert- but I just went with what seemed more appealing to my mind.

WARNING: for Ichi's dirty thoughts here. This is a lil dirtier than the original story arc.

A big thanks to you lovely reviewers!

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OMAKE: Fever

"You want to stick that WHERE?!" Hitsugaya's pretty aqua eyes nearly popped out of his pretty little head.

"Quit being such a baby. It won't hurt." Ichigo grabbed at Hitsugaya, but the tiny taichou scrambled to the other side of the bed.

"It's huge! And I'm NOT a baby!"

"You're acting like one."

"Let me shove it up your ass and see how you like it!" Hitsugaya growled, dodging Ichigo's large hand again.

"I've had it done to me before- it doesn't hurt, Toshirou."

"It's Hitsugaya-taichou!" He dodged Ichigo's hands again, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at the bigger man's head.

Ichigo ducked the pillow and finally managed to snatch a slim ankle. Hitsugaya snarled, pretty features twisted as he clawed at the sheets, dragging them with him. He twisted onto his back and raised his free foot. He struck out, but Ichigo leaned backwards out of the way, catching the small ankle. Ichigo raised his little lover's short, lithe legs into the air, trapping Hitsugaya and limiting his mobility.

Hitsugaya reached around him for ammo, but all the pillows and plushies were already strewn around the room, including Kon who had been tossed shrieking indignantly out into the hall and snatched up promptly by a passing Yuzu. Ichigo frowned down at Hitsugaya. "You know, you only *look* cute, sweet, and innocent. That's quite a set of claws you got, kitten."

Hitsugaya glared icy daggers. "Bastard." He hissed.

Ichigo smirked. "Bitch." He pulled Hitsugaya's legs apart for emphasis.

"Can't you stick it somewhere else?" Hitsugaya's alabaster face went red in anger and mortification. He felt exposed and vulnerable with his lithe little legs raised in the air and spread, exposing a secret, untouched part of him to the blundering substitute shinigami. Ichigo held his slim ankles in a vice-like grip. Hitsugaya was trapped and helpless on his back, and Ichigo was going to-

Ichigo watched those beautiful seafoam green eyes widen, pupils dialating in fear, an emotion Hitsugaya rarely felt, let alone showed. Then again, no one ever got access to such delightful, forbidden parts of him, either. Ichigo sighed- it was such a shame he didn't get to play with the treasures exposed to his gaze. He blinked; he'd been around Kon WAY too long. But Hitsugaya was just too tempting. The strawberry stared at the perfect, tight little ass. The skin was soft and pale, smooth to the touch. It looked tight. Untouched. Unplundered. And Ichigo wanted to be the one to pluck that virgin fruit.

"KUROSAKI!!!" Hitsugaya snarled. He was naked, vulnerable, and helpless. And he hated it. To add insult to injury, the humiliating part was still to come. "Just get it over with!"

"I'm sorry, Shiro-chan." Ichigo voice softened soothingly. "It's the only one I could find in the house, and you're too sick for me to leave by yourself. And you need your temperature taken."

"But a rectal thermometer?" Hitsugaya groaned, face heating in embarrassment. Ichigo pressed a soothing kiss to the heel of one small foot. He ran a hand down one smooth, slender leg and felt Hitsugaya shudder. "Kurosaki." He growled.

Ichigo shook himself. "Sorry, Shiro-chan. One of these days, though, I'm going to be sticking something else up your sweet little backside, my little snow angel-"

"KUROSAKIII!!!!!!" Hitsugaya snarled again, trying to slap Ichigo, but trapped on his back he could not reach. Ichigo relented- best to quit before his frosty baby dragon decided to cut something off. He took both slender ankles in one hand and bent Hitsugaya's knees into his slim chest, completely pinning the small shinigami and giving Ichigo wider access to his backside.

Hitsugaya closed his eyes and clenched his teeth in utter humiliation. His small hands twisted in the snarled sheets. He jumped when he felt cold, thick cream being spread around his entrance. He hissed then cried out when the finger applying the Vaseline slipped a little into him. His muscles reflexively tightened and Ichigo bit back a moan.

Ichigo could not resist; it was far too tempting and he was far too close. He would not invade the temple, but he could not resist a peek inside. Feeling an icy glare, he forced a half-smile. "I have to make sure you're well-prepared; you're a virgin and it'll hurt if I just shove it in there."

Hitsugaya's face glowed red and he glared fiercely. "I think you're doing a little too much preparation." He groused.

"I just want to take care of you, yuki-hime." Busted and guilty, Ichigo reluctantly removed his finger and wiped the vaseline off, then inserted the thermometer, cupping the bottom of Hitsugaya's tight little butt to keep the thermometer in place.

Hitsugaya wanted to squirm at the strange sensation, but because of his position, he couldn't. The thermometer was so much thinner than Ichigo's finger; Hitsugaya barely felt it. He wondered what it would feel like to have Ichigo buried to the hilt inside him.

The petite taichou blushed prettily, the pink in his cheeks off-setting the aqua of his eyes. "Is it done yet?"

"Almost-ah- there we go-" Ichigo slipped the thermometer out and released Hitsugaya's legs. Hitsugaya scrambled to covers his naked body with a sheet. He frowned at the icky sensation of his greased cheeks sliding together.

"You do have a fever, Toshiro. And you *will * take your medicine."

Hitsugaya snorted, ignoring the bigger boy. "My clothes, Kurosaki."

Ichigo frowned- the little baby dragon was going to need his temperature taken regularly, and Ichigo was NOT going through the struggle of undressing him again. Ichigo looked at the clothing strewn around the room. He pulled his own t-shirt off his head and put it on an unsuspecting, squawking Toshiro. It was tight on Ichigo, showing off his rippling abs, but loose on little Hitsugaya and covered the pert ass that the strawberry would dearly love to tap. Hitsugaya's slender, pale legs were left exposed.

"Underwear!" Hitsugaya snapped.

Ichigo groaned and flopped onto the bed. He was not giving the stubborn dragon his panties back. He grabbed Hitsugaya and crushed him to his chest. After much grumbling and a knee none too gently digging into his stomach, Hitsugaya settled down with his head on Ichigo's chest, tucked under his chin. He could feel the beating of the strawberry's heart and calmed as Ichigo stroked his back.

Omake Owari.

()()())(()()()(()()))(()

Yes, that was the end of the omake- but not the story! Next chappie it's back to our regularly scheduled plot/story.

As always, plz review!


	8. warmth

This chapter is really short because it was supposed to be part of chapter 7, only when I was typing it up I completely missed it because I had it written in another notebook. Woops. Well, you guys at least get 2 chappies out of it!

Sorry the updates have been kind of slow, work's been really busy and insane and there's been drama in the social life and love life, and what free time I've had has been spent on Zomg MMO game on gaia.

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Throughout the entire ordeal of the bath, Hitsugaya slept deeply, only stirring when Ichigo let go of him. He never fully woke; he just whimpered softly in protest when he felt Ichigo's arms leave him. His small hands clenched and unclenched, searching for the missing, protective warmth.

When they were both fully dressed in their pjs again, Ichigo scooped Hitsugaya back up, tucking his fragile body against his chest. With a contented, small sigh, Hitsugaya immediately settled down into an untroubled sleep with a soft smile on his full, pink lips.

Ichigo could not suppress his own smile. "What a surprise, Toshiro. Who knew you loved to be cuddled when you're sick? I bet you like it when you're healthy, too, but you're just too prickly to admit it." He smiled down at the sleeping beauty wistfully as he carried him to the bedroom.

Ichigo settled them in the bed, Hitsugaya laying face down on his chest with his head tucked under his chin. Ichigo propped himself up with several pillows so Hitsugaya's head was elevated to help keep his airways clear. He yawned hugely, stretching his lanky limbs and making himself comfortable.

He would sleep when Hitsugaya did so he would have the energy to take care of the little shinigami when he needed him. Hitsugaya let out a low whimper of protest, pressing his face into the crook of his strawberry's neck. With a warm smile, the ryoka wrapped his arms around the pale, dainty body. "I could definitely get use to this, Shiro-chan." He kissed the top of Hitsugaya's head and cuddled the sick taichou close.

Ichigo never smiled much himself- he scowled almost as much as Hitsugaya. Almost. But something about the petite, powerful shinigami left him feeling warm and fuzzy deep inside, like a plant with roots and it just bloomed all over his face like a flower in the warm sun.

Hitsugaya made him feel invincible, confident and strong, like he could move mountains or beat Aizen and all of his diabolical minions with one hand tied behind his back, blindfolded and with no bankai. The baby dragon's touch warmed and strengthened his soul, and Ichigo found himself smiling more and more around the dainty, austere prodigy.

With a loud yawn and gentle kiss to Hitsugaya's soft, hot forehead, Ichigo settled down to sleep, the rhythmic breathing of his chest guiding Hitsugaya's own labored breathing.

Tbc…

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Reviews are always appreciated!


	9. secrets in sleep

Sorry for the long wait between updates, and the chapters are a lil short this time. But you guys get 2 chapters to sort of make up for the long wait, and this chapter the story takes a turn and is rather sad.

WARNINGS: Mentions of rape. Remember, this fic is rated "T" for Teen. Also, brief mention of past Kusaka x Hitsugaya (Kusa is from Bleach movie, Diamond Dust Rebellion- go watch it on youtube!)

Oh, and shameless self promotion time: I've got another IchiHitsu fic I'm working on, "Accidentally In Love" where Ichi and Hitsu meet on a bus and (literally)fall in love, except poor Hitsu is crippled- one of his legs is bad and he needs to wear a brace. And he's not just having a bad day, he's having a bad life. Maybe Ichigo's love can heal the wounds of his heart. If I get enough written and typed up, it might be appearing soon on the IchiHitsu LJ community, just to get some feedback before final revisions and posting here on ff(dot)net.

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Ichigo jerked from a pleasant slumber by a shrill, wheezing gasps. A fevered nightmare trapped Toshiro. He curled into Ichigo's chest, his tears soaking Ichigo's shirt. The thick, sticky mucus clogging Hitsugaya's chest, nose, and throat finally started to loosen, letting whistling wisps of air into the taichou. Now those open pockets were filled with clear snot from his soft sobs.

Ichigo immediately curled his long body around Hitsugaya's petite, shuddering one and rubbed his slim back. Ichigo felt each vertebrae in the small spine. "Shiro-chan, what's wrong? Shiro-chan? Baby?" Ichigo kissed the soft forehead; his fever had decreased slightly.

Hitsugaya mumbled in his tormented sleep, coughing and gagging on dripping phlegm as tears ran down his baby cheeks. Frowning, the strawberry sat up and cradled the dragon to his muscled chest with one strong arm and patted his back to encourage him to cough the gunk up. He held a tissue over Hitsugaya's parted pink lips. Then Ichigo took a suction cup, typically used on infants- he'd snatched it from his father's clinic- and cleaned out Hitsugaya's stuffy, pert little nose. The baby dragon did NOT like it at all. He fussed and whimpered, trying to turn away, but Ichigo held his flopping head gently with one large hand that became wet with Hitsugaya's trickling tears.

Ichigo cuddled the sick little taichou to his chest, one porcelain cheek nestled against his heart. Its strong, rhythmic beating always soothed and comforted the little one. Ichigo wiped his tears away with a corner of the blanket, but more fell in their place. Hitsugaya fidgeted restlessly, mind trapped in bitter memories of the past.

Ichigo felt helpless; he could not save his yukihime from the inner demons that clawed and tore at his heart and soul. His brown eyes were bright with worry. He had made Hitsugaya as comfortable as possible- he gave his baby dragon his all, and it still was not enough. Hitsugaya continued to cry and mumble, and the strong urge to slap or shake that fragile frame possessed the impulsive strawberry.

He could not do it. He could not bring himself to harm the dainty, beautiful body he so loved. "Yukihime." He pleaded softly.

Hitsugaya whimpered and flinched in his lap and his incoherent mumblings formed into intelligible words that burned Ichigo's ears and froze his brain. His heart turned over in his chest and he gasped as if his inner hollow had just rammed Zangetsu into it.

"S't'p. It hurts. K's'ka. St'p." Hitsugaya slurred, squirming and Ichigo loosened his tight hold. "Get off. Dun touch me. St'p. Kusaka. No!" He cried out loudly, arching his nimble back and jerking, his eyes wide open and glazed with sleep, fever. His pupils were dark, bottomless pools of sheer terror. His fingernails clawed frantically at the bigger male's chest and beads of sweat broke out on his hot body.

As suddenly as Hitsugaya's thrashing started, it stopped. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. He fell limp and cool once more as the nightmare climaxed and darkness embraced his mind.

The unexpected outburst shocked Ichigo numb. "Toshiro!" He cried as the little body collapsed against him. Ichigo held him tightly as one thought pounded through his brain.

Rape. His sweet baby dragon was raped by his trusted friend in his Academy days. Ichigo knew about tight-lipped Hitsugaya's past thanks to the diary Matsumoto thoughtfully pilfered for him. Hitsugaya's diary never mentioned rape. There were nuances of more-than-friendly intentions on Kusaka's part hidden in the pages, and Hitsugaya used to have a crush on the deceased shinigami, but Hitsugaya stopped keeping the diary his last year at the Academy. The rape had to have happened during that time.

Ichigo stared down at the perfect, porcelain body through blurry eyes. The thick, fluffy, soft as down hair, long, thick black eyelashes that were the shutters to Hitsugaya's fiery soul, the flawless ivory skin and slender, lithe figure. Without Hitsugaya's stubborn, willful spirit to animate it, his body was like a dainty, fragile doll. How could anyone want to hurt him?

The ryoka's heart thundered in his chest. "Shiro-chan." He whispered, then gathered the limp body to his chest tightly and buried his face in the mop of snowy down. The fragrance of powder-scented shampoo lingered in the fluffy white strands. He fingered a few. "Yukihime, why didn't you tell me?" He closed his eyes and felt a crack in his heart. "Don't you trust me, yuki hime?"

Tbc…

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	10. dreaming

This chapter is a little longer and a little more dramatic. I really didn't see the story taking the turn it did last chapter. Also, I changed the ending a little. A thank you to you lovely reviewers. Reviews are my happy crack.

A reviewer also commented on how I should put the rape warning at the beginning. Maybe I'll go back and add it for those new to the story so they know what they're getting into, but I put it where I did because a good number of people already started reading this before I knew the story was going to take that turn, so if I put the warning waaayy back at the beginning, they're not going to see it. Hence, I put where I did, before the mention of rape, so *everyone * would see it. You were still warned beforehand, so if you don't like rape, then it's simple- don't keep reading.

For your convenience, so you don't have to back-track and re-read the last chapter, here's what I changed: (It's just the last paragraph)

The ryoka's heart thundered in his chest. "Shiro-chan." He whispered, then gathered the limp body to his chest tightly and buried his face in the mop of snowy down. The fragrance of powder-scented shampoo lingered in the fluffy white strands. He fingered a few. "Yukihime, why didn't you tell me?" He closed his eyes and felt a crack in his heart. "Don't you trust me, yuki hime?"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The images played like a clear, vivid movie in surround sound in his head. A younger, innocent Hitsugaya smiling softly, shyly up at Kusaka. The dark haired boy grinned back, reaching out and brushing his fingers through Hitsugaya's snowy, fluffy bangs. His grin grew when Hitsugaya's pale baby cheeks turned pink and his long black lashes lowered.

There was something soft and vulnerable abut the Hitsugaya in his head, and something sinister lurking in Kusaka's dark eyes and lecherous grin as he gazed at the lithe, little body. Ichigo wanted to punch that cocky smirk right off the bastard's face. Impulsively, he let his fist fly. Kusaka's body melted under his knuckles, amazingly soft like feathers.

Ichigo's eyes widened in surprise as his rival blurred then vanished right before him. He fell forward into blackness, something soft, hot, and small breaking his fall.

The strawberry blinked when it suddenly became dark. He was at school- his normal, human school- sitting on the ground in his uniform. Down the street, Kusaka and Hitsugaya were also in uniform; for some bizarre reason, Hitsugaya wore a grey, pleated skirt that sowed off the long, shapely legs that Ichigo loved. He stared at Hitsugaya's short, swishing skirt that occasionally flashed the barest edge of his panties. His brown eyes drunk in the rarely-exposed legs. Ichigo stared for several minutes, mind turning to a different track, when he noticed Kusaka carrying Hitsugaya's books- just like Ichigo did for the taichou when he was in the human world. He also noticed Kusaka and Hitsugaya's hands were entwined- just like Ichigo and Hitsugaya's when they walked home together.

Ichigo clenched his teeth and growled. Kusaka clutched Hitsugaya's dainty doll hand in his own clawed paw. Bastard. Ichigo would kill him. He snarled, ready to lung, let his inner hollow loose and tear Kusaka apart in a jealous frenzy for touching HIS yuki hime.

Kusaka suddenly stopped and pulled Hitsugaya to a stop as well. He dropped Hitsugaya's books then yanked the petite boy into his arms, kissing him fierce enough to bruise the tender pink lips. Hitsugaya stiffened in shock and he shoved, small fists pounding on Kusaka's chest. Kusaka ignored him, thrusting his tongue into Hitsugaya's mouth until the boy gagged. He ripped the struggling boy's shirt, clawed nails raking over the white skin and leaving angry red gouges behind. Hitsugaya shuddered and spasmed, struggling to get away, eyes clenched tight in fear. Kusaka's paws vanished under Hitsugaya's skirt, shredding his underwear. The tattered cloth floated to the ground like petals off a tree. Hitsugaya shuddered, tears trickling down his cheeks. He tried to get away, but Kusaka was too big, too powerful, too greedy. His screams were lost in Kusaka's savage kiss.

"BASTARD!" Ichigo snarled. Kusaka raised his head to stare at the orange haired man, releasing Hitsugaya's mouth. Blood smeared his lips; Hitsugaya's own lips were torn and bloody while red liquid ran down his legs from under his skirt.

Kusaka stared at Ichigo and smiled a red smile. "Mine. You couldn't save him, even if you were there. He never even *told* you about it. He's still mine. He always will be. He'll never give himself to you. Mine."

Ichigo jerked awake, panting and sweating. Kusaka's accusing laughter rung in his ears. Hitsugaya was limp and cool in his arms; his fever was down and his airways open enough for him to breathe. His battered body was in a deep, restful slumber his weakened immune system desperately needed.

Ichigo stared blankly up at the ceiling. Kusaka's face danced in his vision, combining with the bastard's laughter ringing in his ears. He looked at his yuki hime, so sweet in slumber, and saw red. Blood. Violation. Broken Trust.

Something more precious than virginity had been stolen from Hitsugaya. His ability to trust. From talking to certain shinigami, Ichigo knew Hitsugaya had been introverted as a child. He had never been popular due to his strong, icy reiatsu and his own standoff-ish behavior. The only friends he ever made were through his big sister, Momo, and even then he was always on the social fringe.

Until Kusaka. He had been the only one not intimidated by Hitsugaya's glacial beauty or frosty demeanor. Being alone never bothered the prodigy- he was used to it and rather preferred the company of his own thoughts to that of others. Kusaka changed all that. Being around Kusaka was easy and fun for Hitsugaya. The bigger boy was so smooth and cool like melted chocolate. They got along well together, were comfortable in each other's presence, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

Ichigo was jealous of that, and of the sweet, open smiles Hitsugaya often graced the bastard with.

Hitsugaya's beauty, innocence, and strength enchanted Kusaka, just as they had Ichigo, but the strawberry never took that for granted, never forced himself onto Hitsugaya. Hitsugaya was a precious gift to Ichigo, someone, not something, to be treasured. What treasures Hitsugaya would not share, Kusaka had taken by force. He broke Hitsugaya's body, and his trust.

Hitsugaya was not the fragile doll he appeared. His intimidating strength lay in his blazing spirit. Even when ripped apart, physically and emotionally, he pieced himself back together and got back on his feet. But Kusaka's wounds left scars on his heart. He recovered, but tightened his defenses, put up thicker walls and pulled deeper inside himself. And never fell in love again.

Until Ichigo blundered his way in, shattering each defence until Hitsugaya was helpless against the hammering assault of the strawberry's love. Their relationship was not easy and smooth. It was more like trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. They fought, made up, fought some more, fur flew and they learned to work around each other without crushing toes.

Part of that was Kusaka's fault. The scars he left did permanent damage to Hitsugaya's heart. It was so hard to reach in and get the boy to pen up. To smile at Ichigo like he used to smile so freely at Kusaka. The wariness was always there, backed by a very subtle, tightly controlled fear. Ichigo felt it in the trembling of Hitsugaya's soft petal lips when a kiss lingered too long and in the too-quick-to-be-suppressed shuddering when a touch became too intimate. He saw the fearful, wary doubt creep into the shadows of passion-darkened turquoise orbs.

Hitsugaya was afraid Ichigo would hurt him like Kusaka did, and that stabbed Ichigo in his heart. He knew it was a subconscious, knee-jerk reaction deep within Hitsugaya and the tiny taichou battled it with every ounce of his iron will. But the fact that it was a deep, entrenched fear in the core of Hitsugaya's being, a part Kusaka had touched and changed so deeply, angered Ichigo. He hated seeing Hitsugaya suffer, and he hated Kusaka for what he did to the taichou.

Ichigo wanted to kill Kusaka, but unfortuneately the bastard was already dead. He had been cold and buried for centuries while Hitsugaya struggled, soft and warm and hurting, in life, left to overcome the wounds Kusaka left behind.

Wounds that never healed, that left scars of fear and doubt in Hitsugaya's heart and made it so hard for him to trust and open up. The scars of that old broken relationship put holes in Ichigo and Hitsugaya's, erected needless barriers in their path and caused needless pain. Even dead and gone, Kusaka still caused problems between them. Problems Hitsugaya tried to keep buried and hidden.

Ichigo's jaw clenched and his stomach burned. He would never have know how deeply this affected his yuki hime if he hadn't heard him cry out in a nightmare. He was ready for battle, but there was no one to fight. His heart twisted with anger and pain. All he could do was probe Hitsugaya's heart for the answers to their unspoken problems they danced around.

Ichigo stared at Hitsugaya's sleeping face. So open and trusting, his draconian scowl locked away in his consciousness, guardian over his awakened heart. Here he was unguarded in Ichigo's arms. He was never like this when he was awake.

The strawberry felt hot water burn in his eyes and quickly closed them tightly. He pulled Hitsugaya to him, crushing the limp body to his chest and burying his f ace in the snowy hair. "Yuki hime." He said in a broken whisper. "My poor yuki hime. Why didn't you tell me?"

Tbc…


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